Petty Squabbles in a Little Chicago
by KilLorenz
Summary: Original character, the oldest son of Michael Carpenter and ward in training under Donald Morgan, comes back to Chicago after years spent in Edinburgh.
1. Chapter 1

It is never easy to be a mage. Never been, never is, never will be. Simple lesson, and simple truth. The hard truth, too. Painful.

It is never easy to be a warden. The warden. Blood-stained cloak, that never actually carry any blood; silver sword and blazing glory. No, not really. Mostly, death. Sometimes pride.

It comes before the fall or so goes the saying, and it is right. Kinda. Sometimes — not always — but it is, now.

It is never easy to die. Not a complicated process, mind you, but tiring. Bloody and painful. Sickening. Awful. Always scary. Every time feels like the first.

To be a wizard is a lot like to live under a death sentence with an open date. It is written, it is neatly packed in the corner of the table, and you never know when someone will sign it. Never. Even if you are the best fortuneteller in the world.

It sucks, in a way.

Silver sword slid through my throat easily, leaving a clean cut. Work of a true professional. Not a work of art, but can find a nice place in a case book for junior wardens.

Man, who is stepping over my body, is wearing a nice three-button suit. It is black, too. Very suitable for a funeral.

Morgan is nice like that.

When I wake up I feel like I shouldn't have bothered. The throat is sore — no, not sore, not really. It is the wrong word. My throat feels like it was cut in two. Burning, with blood trying to get out of it and with a strange, cold feeling deep in the brain.

One out of ten experience, definitely would not recommend.

I try to stand up and walk — well, mostly crawl — my way into the shower. Cold water is nice. Fresh, clean and disturbs magic, too. All things I strongly appreciate.

Beer and ale, vodka and sake — every vision is similar and yet disturbingly different. They are almost the same but have nothing in common. Time, distance, longevity, mood — I have no control over them. Visions just come whenever they wish to, tear my had apart and are gone like nothing had ever happened.

It fills a lot like I am sitting in front of a broken radio and try to figure out the whole picture from thousands of pieces.

Why would my teacher and life-long superior kill me? Or, to be more precise, when?

It can happen tomorrow, in twenty years or never. All with equal chances. Besides, I had not seen myself in the vision — thus, no idea about my age relative to today. Sometimes you can see certain marks, like tattoos on skin, or date in a newspaper or something akin to that. Still, it is never a guarantee. Newspaper in a glimpse of future can be old or intentionally misleading, you can get yourself tattoo exactly because you saw it in the vision, and self-fulfilling prophecies are notoriously hard to deal with. Cronus, Oedipus, and Paris would agree.

Prophetic visions are many things, but useful they are almost certainly not.

The phone vibrated, loudly, demanding my attention. Someone needed me, urgently. A sound made my head itch from pain, and damned thing burst aflame with a loud squee sound.

«Damn you!»

I almost shouted, but words had not left the throat. Words have power, you see. It is not a good idea to damn something — anything — if you don't really mean it. Especially when your magic is disturbed after a BDSM fuckfest codenamed «visions».

I am whining, aren't I?

I picked up a second phone — stationery, old, with a rotary dial. It was made in ninety sixties, and still worked, if barely. I found it in the Edinburgh flea market almost three years ago and it was working as well as you might expect. Still, it was better than nothing.

«Edward Carpenter speaking.»

«Good.» The teacher's voice was cold, calm and not a little bit tired. I have no idea when he had slept last time with all that black court thing going on, but it wasn't working out for him. «I need you in Rosehill Cemetery in four hours.»

I smirked.

«They are hiding in a graveyard? Really?»

Blacks have many weaknesses, churches and blessed land — one of them. To hide anywhere close to cemetery and corpses was… an option, I guess. If their big boss was good in necromancy or at least knew what he is doing. Not so bright otherwise.

With how badly black court was wrecked in the last century, chances were that he did. Dumb and feisty do not survive that long in the after-Stoker world.

«Had your talent brought something of use?»

«You sliced my throat with your sword. Do with it what you want.»

Morgan grunted.

«I will prepare a counter to mind-altering spells.»

«Or any other spells, really. I can give you ten mutually exclusive reasons for this happening.»

Beeping met me instead of an answer. Morgan, for some strange reason, was sure that my visions actually were useful. I had no such delusions but had no problems with indulging his curiosity.

If a man wants to know one of the thousands of versions of our fucked up future he can be my guest.

I finally gathered myself and put pants, shirt, and jacket on. No tie needed, thank god. I hate those nooses since school.

Morgan loved classy suits, ties, and cufflinks. He also believed that stern look and formal suit ofter work better than the most powerful veil and in our line of work it meant a lot. Besides, if we really are going to the cemetery, the black suit is truly for the best.

View from the window was rather pretty. Nice studio on the thirty-first floor, high enough, that most people and energy they carried with them were left below. Besides, I had a view on the harbor and park in two minutes distance.

Despite Chicago being my home city, Council treated it like a business trip. Meaning I got all my traveling, food and living expenses covered, in addition to getting a hundred bucks a day as a bonus.

I truly love my job. Sure, it may suck sometimes, but I get to shoot fireballs at people while getting paid handsomely.

Against usual habits, I decided not to put on a cloak yet. It was too much of a symbol to just walk around in it. Call me superstitious, but I believe in the importance of symbols. Of power, of faith — whatever. Crown for royalty, stuff for a senior mage, warden cloak and silver sword for a council law enforcer.

It just seems wrong to show them off while being off duty.

Thus I put grey cloak into the bag, covered sword in the veil and left the apartments, renewing guarding spell on a doorstep. Many would call it stupid, to stay in a rented property without a proper threshold when you have a true home, where you are always welcomed and loved, but…

I have my reasons.

The door closed, leaving only a weak guardian spell and a neat pile of clothes behind.

There still were four hours before the dusk, and I had a meeting to attend to.

It was almost painful to stand before the threshold. Not magically — it was never meant to harm me, and never will be — but physiologically. I left the house ten years ago, and haven't come back ever since.

Almost nothing changed. Same white walls, same colorful garden. The same feeling of something incorruptibly good. It was nostalgic, all of it.

The door easily opened with an old key. Funny, I was sure I lost it.

«Brother!»

Little Matthew was the first to come to the door. He was almost twelve, now. A father's copy, only with blond hair. And, as strange as it was, he remembered me.

I took the gift out of the bag. Nice pair of headphones, going with stereo. I had no idea what he wanted, but I would have loved to have something like that in his age. And if he already had it — well, there was cash inside of the box.

Mother was next. She wore a cooking apron, busy with cooking. She hadn't changed. Ten years passed, and she was the same woman I remembered.

I kept in touch, of course, — to a reasonable degree, through rare phone calls and letters. Paper letters, Council is conservative and I got a habit. Still, it was nice to meet in person.

I picked up a cooking knife and joined her, cutting vegetables. A family of nine ate a lot, and I was glad to take some weight from her.

We talked. Matthew was at home because he was ill. Little Harry and Hope were napping. Others were still at school or on the extracurricular sport of some kind.

Father was stuck on a hunt — as usual, I guess.

When we finished with vegetables, I showed off with my incredible cooking skills. No, really, I was best at cutting meat. Anything else? Well, just cover it in honey or garlic and carrot and put it in the oven with the vegetables.

It was nice.

When someone ringed the doorbell, I was the first to get up. In the middle of the way, I remembered that I raised the shield around myself and gathered power. Reflexes die hard. Especially if it is Morgan who put them in place.

Behind the door stood two men. One was a bit older than me, with black hair, pale skin, and grey eyes. Pretty one, to be honest. Prettier than me. He was wearing some kind of fashion shirt that looked like a spider web. It would have looked stupid on anyone else, but he managed to make it work.

He was not really memorable in contrast to his companion.

Long trench coat, gun under it and staff in hands. He was tall — close to two meters, and had a distinctive look of someone to never fuck with. The amount of raw power he radiated was leading to the same conclusion.

«Harry Dresden, I take it?»

Man smirked. He was surprised to see me here. We never met, but I knew his name. He also should have known mine.

«Yes, I am.» He looked embarrassed. «Excuse me, are you Michael son? Morgan apprentice?»

«Yep, it's me. Edward Carpenter. Nice to meet you.» We shook hands. His grip was strong, confident.

If anything Morgan told about him was true, it had reasons to be. «I feel like I should thank you.»

And honestly, I did feel grateful.

«Why?»

«You started the war with reds, aren't you?» I smiled. «Thank you. Whole warden corps was dreaming about going after those bastards for centuries. Accords or not.»

«Ye… sure. No problem.» Dresden was looking at me strangely. Like I had said something dumb.

And then I felt it. Sticky, sleazy wave inside my brain. Covering feelings, opening emotions… A man close to him was stared into my eyes, sniffing. His eyes weren't grey, as I thought before. They were almost purely white.

Had it happen any other place, at any other time, I would have held myself together and stopped. Not overreacted. But not here, and not today.

Creature's eyes were almost glowing. It was hungry, angry and stressed. Pressured by its inner demon. It was looking for food, for a tasty fucking dinner.

At the house of my family.

A wave of pure, concentrated energy hit the creature, throwing it at the fence. Had it been fire, it would have been enough to burn down the whole street. But it was psychic — mind to mind, breaking and entering. Violating both Third and Fourth in one go if used against the mortal.

The fair game against the blasted creature.

I struck right in the center of its conciseness, in the Hunger. Creature shouted, screamed, broke down in pain. Its hands shattered. The silver sword was already in my hands like it was always there — creature managed to sidestep first hit, yet second hit its throat.

Almost hit.

Tip of the sword barely scratched the beast, stoped by the telekinetic field. Tall wizard thew himself between us, stopping me and covering creature with his body.

«Stop!» He shouted into my face, holding unto sword hilt with both hands. «Thomas isn't an enemy.»

I stopped. The creature was howling in pain, with white glowing eyes. It was hungry and frenzy.

I was livid, too.

«You brought this creature in the house of my family. You dared to bring a hungry vampire to my sister's house!»

He had power, I felt it. A lot of it, held back only by an effort of will.

Well, you know what? I fucking had it too.

«Thomas is not like his family. He never did anything worth killing.» Dresden was looking into my eyes, almost daring to soulgaze. «He isn't here to harm your family, I swear.»

«It did nothing wrong? Sure, except daily violating the Third and the Fourth. It is at least a hundred years old. A fraction of what this creature had done would've been enough to get an execution order for any wizard.»

«He is not a wizard. His soul is not tainted by it.»

«This creature does not have a soul to begin with.» I was pushing the sword handle, slowly tearing through the barrier charms and Dresden's physical power. «Tell its victims how innocent and pure their murderer was.»

«I do not kill when feeding!» Whispered creature. «Never!»

«Right, thus consuming pure life force is considered a good deed now.» I pulled further. «People die from this shit, Dresden.»

«How the hell I suppose to live, you freak?!»

«You are not supposed to!» I growled. «Your whole miserable existence is a mistake from our front.»

«Told like a model Morgan pupil.»

Dresden threw his energy into his ring, pulling off a barrier between us. It sent me a step back. Still, it was an old school power against power standoff. Not an all-out shitshow with firestorms and death curses.

«I am warden, Dresden. Not a warlock with the sword of Damocles lifted by a mistake and friends in the Council.» I wasn't angry. It wouldn't even start to describe the condition I was at. I felt more frenzy than a vampire lying in front of me. «My whole fucking purpose is to find creatures that should not exist and make them share that sentiment!»

«Really?» He smirked. «Tell me, do you listen to burning vampire sounds before sleep? Just for fun, you know. I heard many psychopaths torture kittens in childhood. Should I ask Michael about that? Is that why you ran from home?»

«Step the fuck aside, Dresden.» Sword felt heavy in my hands, reinforcing confidence. «Your pet vampire assaulted a warden off duty in his family house. It is worth of execution on its own.»

«He had not meant it, you dumb fanatic. He is hungry, that's all. I would have stopped him. Besides, no harm is done.» Dresden looked almost sorry. «Look, I am sorry for what happened. We were going to ask Michael for help hunting down blampires tonight, and leave. That's all. You can join if you want to.»

I have almost regretted my next words. But the truth is the truth.

«Sorry, but I can not allow this creature to exist in one city with my sister.» I closed my eyes, reinforcing the protective field. Sword burned against staff. Games were over. «Especially now, with the war going on. Step aside, Dresden. You do not want to go down with it.»

Besides, even if he would kill me, Morgan is in the same city.

And at this very moment, when our powers almost crushed, a gate in the fence opened, allowing a young woman to come through.

She changed, in all those years. She really did.

Tall, now. Almost as tall as I. Clothed in a blue summer dress and low heels sandals. With golden, middle length hair, covering left part of her face.

There was no eye there, I knew.

Scars were almost indistinguishable now, after numerous plastic surgeries over the years. Simple white lines instead of gaping, blooded wounds I remembered.

I felt like I was kicked in the head by a redvamp warlord. Sword faltered, it became hard to breathe, and I felt dizzy. Almost broken. Scared. Ashamed.

I felt like a little boy, crying close to his sister's bloodied body.

I felt guilty.

Rightly, of course. It was my fault, after all. All of it was my fucking fault.

«Ed? Brother, is that you?»

Her voice was quiet. Astonished.

I couldn't look at her.

I crushed the beast, tearing through Dresden's field on pure willpower. Not killing, but crushing it down. Breaking bones. Removing danger.

And then I ran. I ran, just like ten years ago, with something burning deep inside. I couldn't face it. Face her.

If was all my fault, and Molly paid for it.


	2. Chapter 2

It is not easy to be a prophet. Never easy, especially when your gift is so fucked up. I don't know when it manifested, honestly. I just grew up with it, knowing what will happen tomorrow a day or two before. I wasn't smart about it, really. Kids stuff — to figure out what gifts were under the Christmas tree, what will be the questions on the test in school, where and when will vampire attack.

Father believed me. Treated it like a gift from the Lord, or something. When I told him about the danger he took it into consideration. Always.

It was a mistake.

Either my gift was broken, or I simply wasn't good at using it — I don't know. Both, probably. And I was a dumb kid. Cocky, self-righteous and zealous.

When red court fuckers came after our family, it did not work out so well.

It wasn't me who paid the price.

I shook my head and slowed down. I almost ran to the graveyard, with face burning hot. I was agitated, perhaps too agitated to work. I needed to calm down.

I needed to murder someone.

«You know, boy, I really should take you off the duty and send you to your father.»

Morgan was standing close to the dark gates of the cemetery, leaning on the wall. He wasn't looking great. Begs under tired eyes had the size of a ping pong ball, and it seemed like he got some extra grey hair in the last days.

Still, even in this condition man could break me with one hand, reading a book in the process.

The field commander of wardens is a tough guy like that.

«But even you are not that cruel, boss,» I smirked, as cocky as I could manage. «What are we dealing with here?»

Morgan was not impressed. He was staring at me with a cold, inspecting gaze. Finally, he nodded.

«Scourge of five to ten units.» His voice was quiet. Thoughtful. «They are your job. Most will be fresh, month to days from siring.»

The black court is, generally speaking, never good news. After good half of it was destroyed by equally pissed off mortals and wardens, only most freaky and smart survived. The last century worked like a Darwin filter on steroids, leaving only the most adapted and skilled.

Good news: they are weak to a shitload of things. Fire, holy symbols, garlic, running water… Bad news: they are also faster than a cheetah on short distances, can lift cars with bare hands and tear through metal.

The worst news: their sire must be at least two hundred years old, and most likely is a practitioner to some degree.

«Who is their boss? Do I know him?»

Council had information neatly packed on almost all of the blampires that survived the purge. Mostly historical notes of occasional slaughter and failed execution orders, but sometimes there was something useful.

«Not him, her. Mavra von Dracul. She would have been an elder, if not for the purge.»

I whistled. The Vlad Dracul spawn? That is freaking serious. And also explains why they send here a freaking Morgan with me on his tail. Two full-fledged wardens are not a resource to throw on minor cases. Not during an ongoing war, anyway.

«She is sorceresses, isn't she?»

You can never have too much information, and that one was earned with the blood of our guys. Morgan never needed to push me into the archives.

«Yes. Veils and blood rituals, according to the latest reports. But those were made twenty years ago.»

Meaning she can pull a whole deck of trump cards on us, and we can't really do anything about it.

«What do I do about her? If I finish with minions early?»

Morgan froze for a moment, thinking.

«Keep barriers up, limit her freedom of movement and break down veils.» He smirked. «I will keep the Sight up, and suggest you do the same.»

I felt a shiver. Sight is not a thing to joke around with. It is the closest you can get to the true vision. It shows souls, not bodies, the whole truth about a person. Add whatever you will see with the Sight will stay with you forever. Regardless of how much you want to forget it.

I did not want to look into the soul of a freaking Dracul spawn. With a sigh, I pushed energy to the eyes.

And immediately felt something very wrong.

It was exactly a moment when Morgan's sword went for my throat.

«Oh, fuck.»

He missed — by a margin of a single hair. My body reacted to an already experienced situation faster, than mind understood what is going on. The sharp blade tore through my barrier like a hot knife through the water. I sidestepped — more on a pure reflex than any conscious decision on my part.

The teacher pushed on. His shoulder hit me in the solar plexus, going right through the tear in the barrier, made by the blade. I coughed, bent over and got a hit in the balls. He had kicked with his knee.

On pure reflex, I raised a barrier. It was weak, badly focused because of the pain, yet it threw him a meter back for a second.

I raised a sword, pushed energy through it — and right in time to block the incoming hit. Morgan was tearing through the barrier like it wasn't even there, and I had neither time nor concentration to use anything more complicated than that. Besides, I was lucky he used the sword and hands instead of magic.

Had it been magic, I would have already been dead.

Swords hit. I blocked his strike, barely. Sidestepped a kick in the knee, and managed to throw a telekinetic punch at him. Morgan blocked it, of course, but at least I pushed him into defense.

Say whatever you want, but I was freaking good at kinetomancy.

Our blades clashed, again. He was stronger, faster, more experienced and savvy than me, but was holding back. Attacking in half strength of what he truly could.

And I had an educated guess why.

The first vampire attacked from the back. He was young, extremely so. His face looked almost humane, and Sight showed him as a bit pale and pained human being. It will change in days if he isn't lucky. In years, if he is.

Flame wards sewn into the warden cloak around a year ago saved me. It cost me almost all my savings at a time, but I knew I will need it one day.

Creature screamed. A bolt of fire hit it in the chest, leaving a gaping hole inside. Even better, it ended up in the blessed land of the graveyard. I managed to land one more lucky strike, telekinetically impaling it on the grave cross.

«One down, nine to go.»

With exhale, I yet again raised a barrier. Where there is one vampire, there are ten. I was not going to take chances on that front.

Morgan attacked again. Those seconds of inaction, that allowed me to end vampire, cost him a lot. He was flinching in pain. Curse, lying on him, was almost conscious. It was complicated — oh, hell, was it complicated and overcharged. I had never seen anything like this, ever. Never heard about anything like this either. Even in the books.

To forcibly break and enter into the mind of one of the strongest wardens on the Earth you need to be at least a fucking fallen angel.

I had no chances to get a victory here. If Mavra was capable of something of that level of skill — I needed backup. I needed a whole battle group of wardens or a freaking blackstaff in support.

Besides, she was prepared. You can not just throw a curse of that level of complexity without spending weeks and months collecting energy and drawing signs. You must know your target, at least part of his true name. Even if you are ten times master of blood magic.

Mavra knew who was coming after her, and she made her fucking homework.

New vampires growled behind me. Two, three, six — I did not have time to look, being too busy with Morgan. A man was doing his best, holding back and fighting the curse, yet I still was loosing. A good hundred years worth of experience against four — does not sound very fair.

The least patient vampire jumped at me. I was preoccupied with blocking another hit in the throat, and creatures hit land. My barrier shook. It stood, for now, but I was losing concentration with every hit. Even worse, they actually got some brains and started to throw at me anything heavy they can find. And with enough strength to lift and throw a fucking car, that was a lot of damage.

My personal barrier was useless against Morgan, and it was only a matter of time before it will go down under scourge combined efforts.

And I was still alive only because blasted creatures were too scared of Morgan. Had they come close to him and thrust into the holes in barrier he made with a sword, it would have been over.

Honestly, it was a situation to cast a death curse at. No way to run, no way to contact the Council and share new information. I couldn't even avenge myself, Mavra had cut her scourge off her. Any death curse I would send her way will kill only her thralls, leaving her untouched.

She was way too smart for her own good.

Telekinesis was good, but I did not have time to make it really work. The second I will concentrate on crucifying the bastards will become my last, with a silver sword slicing my throat. Thus I chose fire.

There was no energy left in charms in my coat, yet the spell was still there. I pushed a bit of energy in it, and another vampire got a fireball. That one was smart. He got himself covered behind a wall, pieces of which he was tearing to throw at me. Fire only melted a wall in front of him.

Had they give me a second, and it would have been a firestorm. I did not have that second.

Or I didn't until a loud explosion threw graveyard gates inside. There stood Harry Dresden, and he was pissed.


	3. Chapter 3

«Forzare!»

Dresden roared, pushing the tone of magic into the spell. A whole section of the wall close to me exploded, throwing bricks and pieces of steel fence in the vampires.

My field blocked most of it. Morgan sidestepped, using my spell as a cover and punching me at the same time. I answered with the fast telekinetic punch, but he cut it before it touched him. I started to understand why warlocks hate wardens so much. We are a pain in the ass to fight.

He could cut and destroy any spell, barrier or trap, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could have used the big guns, in theory — a curse on his mind had no access to his magic, at least, for now. He had not raised his own protective shield, and I could have thrown some dark and dirty magic…

But I would rather die here than kill him. Any curse can be lifted. Even of such strength and complexity. I only need to detain him and deliver to Edinburgh or wait until the help arrives.

I saw a dark figure with two guns in hands, and by pure luck managed to extend a field between the shooter and Morgan. Bullets hit the barrier, uselessly throwing sparks.

I shouted:

«Don't kill him!»

Modern guns are a complicated thing. Murder with them does not taint the soul anywhere as much as murder with magic, and it works pretty well on most of the enemies. Although, they are useless against a wizard, specifically trained for combat. In any normal situation.

Morgan did not have his shield raised. For a shooter, he was as vulnerable as a vanilla mortal.

Shooter — young, unnaturally attractive woman in a jet black dress. She also wore high, and I mean high, like seven-inch heels. I had no idea, how she managed to shoot and move between the black vampires with such accuracy at the same time, but…

Actually, I did have an idea. She was another spawn of the infamous white court. Is Dresden working on them or something?

Her guns were almost useless against other vampires, and closest to her almost got her. Her skin and eyes burst with white light, and I felt cold despite five meters of distance between us. She managed to evade the pursuer, if barely.

And here is the difference in class. Those blacks are a week old at best, and she is clearly an uppercut of her court. And yet, they still were faster and stronger than her.

I would love to say that it made whites less dangerous, but, unfortunately, that is not the case.

Finally having a few seconds to concentrate, I punched Morgan with a surge of wind from behind. He took it on the sword, but I already send telekinetic waves from the other three directions. It left him exposed enough to get a bullet into a shoulder from a vampire girl.

Everything in me was demanding to burn her alive for it, and yet, somehow, we were on the same side.

I send a wave of fire, burning two or three vampires pursuing her, returning the favor.

Dresden was fighting his own battle, pushing his power in a barrier ring and burning and throwing five vampires around. Had they been at least ten years old, it wouldn't have been nearly that easy to deal with them.

I killed another vampire and swore through the teeth. Morgan managed to retreat while we were fighting Mavra's minions.

I shut the field down in an area around me and collected Morgan's blood leaked from the wound, mixed with the dirt. At least it would help to find him.

When I looked up, Dresden already mostly finished with his share of thralls. His vampire girl just finished shooting at her last, basically tearing off his head with the bullets. I did not like her accuracy. It shouted «troubles».

I can burn the bitch alive ten times in a row being perfectly safe behind the shield, yet she can hit me with the bullet in my sleep or on the street before I will manage to raise it.

And that without taking Raith's financial resources into consideration.

I sighed, returned the field to a normal state and went up to them.

«So, what are you doing here?»

«That is your way to say 'thank you? '»

Dresden was cocky and tired. That we had in common.

«Dresden, my teacher just got enthralled by some fucked up old bitch from the black court. I am not in the mood for jokes. What are you doing here?»

Vampire answered for him.

«My little sister, Inari, is kidnapped by the black court.»

She was obviously livid. It seemed, push her a bit more — and she will start to murder whoever happened to be around.

«Little? Let me guess, by what, a hundred years?»

«No!» Oh my, she truly was angry. «She is seventeen and does not know anything about what is going on. About our life.»

She almost sounded sincere. If she had been a human, I would have believed her.

«Is it why you looked for my father's help?» I looked at Dresden. Thank god, his second pocket vampire wasn't here. I roughed him up well enough.

«Yes, Tomas asked me to find his sister.»

Vampire's eyes lit up.

«So you are that maniac that almost killed my brother?»

Her fingers squeezed the gun. I knew, she will shout me in the back a moment I turn it to her.

«That's a warden for you, Lara.» Dresden signed. «We don't have time for it. Morgan…»

I exhaled sharply.

«Is under Mavra's control. I have no idea how she managed that, but the curse on him is the most complicated shit I ever saw.»

There was silence, for a moment. We went lower, in the depth of the mausoleum. And the smell was far too familiar.

«Damit!» Cursed Dresden. He clenched his fists so hard that his fingers turned white.

I could share the sentiment. The lowest chamber of the mausoleum was turned into a slaughterhouse. There were at least fifty, perhaps seventy corpses there, lying in a pool of their blood. Mostly children of different ages, some — teenagers.

And it was even worse, that I thought, because if Mavra and her scourge left so much blood to waste than they had far more than they can possibly drink. Meaning the number of victims can be easily multiplied by two, if not by three.

Also, thank god she is not a necromancer.

«It would have been hard to hide that many lost children.»

Lara, the vampire, was by far the calmest one. Dresden looked somewhere in between vomiting and burning everything around, and I… I saw a lot of shit in the line of duty, trust me.

Yet I wanted to slowly, piece by piece tear Mavra apart and bath the leftovers in holy water.

«They were orphans.»

Dresden was quiet.

«This chamber is right under the blessed land.» I sighed. «It is almost impossible to feel the dark magic under the cover of so much faith, and look for corpses in the graveyard?»

Mavra knew exactly what she is doing. And she must die. Regardless of consequences or price, she must fucking die.

«Any thoughts on how she controlled Morgan?»

«There was plenty of energy here. More than enough to cast a curse of required power.»

I shook my head.

«She is master of blood rituals, true, but not of psychomancy.»

Those sections of magic had nothing in common. I can pull some tricks from there, but it would take me years to get anywhere. It is way too far from my field. It would've been even harder for her.

«Inari.» Lara was beyond angry, now. Her eyes were glowing with the cold white light. «That bitch is using my sister as a mediator.»

That… that could work. White court vampires have a natural inclination towards psychomancy. So strong, that newborns pull off tricks that take years to learn for the specialist in the field.

If Lara's words to be taken seriously, her sister is not an initiated vampire, yet. Her Hunger, inner demon, can be a perfect mediator between the Mavra and whoever she wants to enthrall. And she has plenty of energy from the sacrifices.

I felt a shiver.

«Holy hell.» Muttered Dresden. We looked at each other with sudden understanding.

It can not be allowed to continue.

In any other circumstances I would have nothing against a little war between the black and white courts, but… Mortals, children, were in danger. And my teacher already was a casualty of this war.

«How do we do it?»

I was a decent combatant, but a poor investigator. And Mavra was smart. It was almost impossible to find this lair, if not for Morgan's experience and… how did Dresden found it?

«I will call the police. Let them clean up and deliver the news to the parents.» He sighed. «I have my ways to track Mavra. I will share the results tomorrow morning.»

I nodded.

«I will look for Morgan. He is not using magic, and I may have a way to figure out where he is.»

Given how smart Mavra was acting before, she would either have a way to cover him from magical ways of search or will have him moving around constantly. Still, it was a chance.

«I will also ask Murphy to look for him. Police cameras may be as good as magic here.»

I nodded again. He was right.

«Do you have a special vampire way to track your sister down?» I froze. «Actually, give me your hand.»

Lara looked at me strangely but did what she was told. I made a cut with a spell, taking a bit of her blood. She either really, really wants to get her sister out of Mavra's claws, or is simply dumb. All things I may or may not do with a drop of her blood…

«Hey, you didn't allow me to do it!» Told Dresden with an accusation in his voice.

Lara was silent, tightly clenching her teeth. She sighed.

«I didn't know the situation was so… dire»

I nodded. Vampire or not, it was far too close to the home. Little sister and all.

«Aren't you afraid that he will use the sample against you? It is dangerous, you know.»

Dresden was confused. One one hand, she was a woman in despair and I was a terrible, terrible warden who will use it to kill her without a second thought. On the other hand, she was a smart and experienced vampire, and for some reason wasn't against it.

«He will not.» Strangely, it did not sound like a threat. «I am a white court vampire, Harry. I know people. A boy will not use it against me as long as I am trying to save my sister. A sample will become useless at that time.»

Ouch. Just ouch. That was painful. Judging by the understanding look of Dresden — he felt it too.

«Alright. Dresden, take a sample from your second pocket vampire and do whatever you always do. I suck at thaumaturgy, so the more us, the merrier.» I froze for a moment, thinking. «And drop a call to your mentor. I would really, really appreciate his help down here.»

Dresden looked at me with a question in his eyes.

«Ebenezar? All right, I guess, but why him?»

He didn't know? Are you shitting me? Well, alright, I am not that dumb to ruin man's decision. If blackstaff does not want his student to know about his position in the Council, it is his call.

«Just call him, would you? Against Mavra we need every staff we can get and then some.»

He nodded and reached for a phone. To call to police, I think. I took Lara's phone number, and we finally went upstairs. We had far too many things to do and far too little time.


	4. Chapter 4

We met again the next morning. I knew that sunlight will not burn Lara but still felt disappointed.

"Any results?"

Dresden looked a bit fresher than yesterday. He got at least a couple of hours of sleep, then. Good.

"None. Tracking spell for Morgan failed miserably." I shook my head. I hated to admit defeat. "Girl's blood is showing at least fifteen different points on a map, all in the different parts of Chicago. Mavra either dismembered her or is using a counterspell."

Lara looked sickened and angry. Dresden - even angrier, than usual.

"I found a possible location of Mavra laboratory, but I am almost sure it is abandoned by now."

Of course, it is.

"What do we know about her motivation?" I exhaled. "She got the girl and Morgan. What does she need in the city?"

Can't she just leave? She already won a jackpot. In her stead, I would have already left Chicago.

"Many possible reasons." Dresden was almost ashamed. "I had almost burned a couple of years ago, on Bianca's mascarade. Michael had killed all her fledglings years ago. Besides, it was White Court who made Stocker publish his book. She may be on a revenge streak."

So, the list of possible targets: me, Dresden, father, all my family, bastards from the white court. Had she only be after them...

No such thing as luck in my life.

Lara came on a meeting with her own driver and a bulletproof limo. It dealt with the hex reasonably enough. Our combined efforts only burned the electronics inside during the ride. No, I was not being petty.

I was simply destroying the resources of a possible enemy.

I shook my head again. It was incredibly hard to concentrate.

«You know, I see where you are looking.» Lara smiled. «Tell me, do you crave me so much or is it just a sword under your coat?»

Her smile was definitely something. Her hair was so dark that its highlights were nearly blue. She had eyes of dark grey with hints of violet twilight at their centers. Deep, devouring eyes.

I felt like a deer in headlights. I hated to feel like that.

And I wanted her. I wanted her so much. I was hungry for her. Images burned inside of my head. I felt hot, bothered. Something primitive was taking better of me.

«I am looking for the places for holes, that I will make when this creature will turn on us.» I told to the air in the general direction of Dresden. He was sitting in the front row, ignoring us completely.

«I am sure that you are, indeed, looking for holes.» Lara laughed. «That we established with all honesty.»

«Sorry, not into gerontophilia.» I almost hissed. And understood that answered to her, directly. Damn. «Besides, at this point, this creature is nothing but a collection of stolen life force. It is complicated to get hard on that.»

She was, indeed, beautiful. So much, that only thing I wanted was to cut her head off and burn it. Not into vampires, thank you very much.

More so not into ones that feed on the life energy during sex. It's like to be something in between a medium-rare steak and vibrator.

«Boy is adorable. Isn't he, Harry? Push him around a bit, and he will run for his own tail. Like a cute little puppy.»

«Dresden, tell your pet vampire that I will murder it personally if it won't shut up.»

'Ignore it, and it will go away'

I did not want it to go away. I wanted to bend her over the table, pull up a dress and...

«He is too simple, though. Talented, but not very bright.» Lara smirked. «Just point him in the direction of the closest vampire and say 'bite'."

«One more word and I will turn into her direction.»

«Oh? 'It' became 'her', my dear?»

«Just get yourself a room already.» Dresden groaned. «I can cut the sexual tension with a knife. And we are on the clock, so stop it.»

I put my hand on the sword handle. Lara smirked.

"You know, when a boy likes a girl he can show his interest in other ways then snarky remarks. Compliments and signs of appreciation work better." Lara chuckled. "But they don't teach that in warden corps, are they?"

"Lara."

Dresden was looking like he is going to be first to explode. Her smirk widened.

"I am just giving a bit of advice to a poor boy. He is still a virgin, you see. I feel like he needs it." Her voice was so salty that it almost hurt. She couldn't have whispered more erotically. "Do you always treat a woman like this? Threats are not the way to go in a relationship."

Oh, right, because a god damned vampire knows better.

«I. Will. Fucking. Murder. You.» I spelled it very slowly, letter by letter. In a way, that even dumbest vampire will understand.

Lara smiled.

"No. You will not." Her smile was mocking. "You desire me and try to cover it with made up aggression. Or are you trying to hide it from yourself?"

'Dear Lord, please keep me from murdering her for the next ten minutes. Amen.'

«Stop shitting around and get to work.» Barked Dresden. He was pissed.

She did. I felt disappointed for some reason.

«Seriously, though. Why do you hate me so much?»

We were lying on a bed in the hugest presidential suite I had ever seen in my life. Not that I had seen a lot of them. As good as my job was, wardens weren't exactly paid in thousands of grand.

Laboratory was, indeed, abandoned and thoroughly burned to the ground. A dead-end, in every meaning of the prase. Thus, we were waiting for the Dresden's spells to bring results, drinking away the stress.

I probably shouldn't have agreed to her - its - invitation, but it was extremely hard to refuse when the only alternative was being alone in rental apartments.

«I don't hate you. I despise you and refuse you in a right to exist.»

«Why?»

«Childhood dreams and beliefs, mostly.»

She smiled.

«And really?»

«Would the phrases 'slut' and 'will betray and murder me at any moment' enough to sate your curiosity?» I looked her in the eyes. They were deep, wrongly so. She was beautiful, and there wasn't a drop of glamour or vampire charms in it. «Let me think. You are at least a hundred years old vampire, that makes living by whoring herself to every creature, that can provide energy. And, I suspect, to daddy dearest too.»

«Should I take it as slut-shaming and personal assault?»

Her voice was soft and she was smiling, not faltering, but I knew I touched a string.

«You can. Will it change anything?» I wasn't angry. Too hard to be, when a vampire of Raith bloodline is so damn close. «You are old, murderous and will kill me in an instant had I ever turn my back to you. Probably drink me dry during sudden intercourse.»

"I doubt I would." Her voice was quiet, intentionally so. She was almost whispering, sending shivers down my spine. Making me lean towards her in order to hear anything. "You are talented, powerful and easy to control. Too useful to waste on something so casual."

I smirked.

"So you will waste me on something epic. Good to know."

«You will make a good dog, you know.» Lara kept smiling, but her eyes changed. There were cold, calculated. Murderous. «You are in a way, already. For a Council.»

I smirked. Sunday services from a childhood kicked in.

«Laudare, Benedicere, Praedicare»

«Don't be a smartass, not in that way.» Lara was looking at me, and it was not a good look. «I am serious, you know. I need personal enforcer, and you are as good as I can find.»

I laughed. I really did. No shit.

«And what comes in the benefits package?» I tried to guess. «A million a month?»

Her look was almost pitiful.

'Right, million a month means I have to earn every damn dollar from this million. I don't even want to think who she will send me after. Merlin? Her father?'

«Just write the sum down. I won't judge.»

I looked at the table. There really was a sketchbook and a pen. I expected an already prepared contract, written in blood, but she surprised me.

"Are there any benefits? Pension, healthcare, gym package?"

I was shitting, she knew it, and I knew it too. Yet I found myself unironically interested in what she had to offer. People look at their wanted posters with the same feelings, probably. It is curious to see how much someone is ready to pay for your head.

"None." Lara smiled. "I don't believe in partial benefits. I pay enough so you can afford any benefits you like."

«Let me guess, sex is the part of the deal?»

She purred.

«Would you like me to put it on the invoice?»

Hells bells. I finally got an offer to be paid for sex. Hell is officially frozen, or something.

«You are feeding, I am fucking, both benefiting?»

Lara smirked.

«Something like that.»

There was silence, then. I was thinking about my morals, intensely trying to forget about her hand on my chest, and Lara was... curious about my childhood dreams, apparently.

«What is your childhood dream, anyway?»

She really was spontaneous. Or this is some fine way to lead the conversation somewhere she wants. Definitely the latter.

Oh, this is just great. I am drinking wine worth more than my income in the next twenty years, with a vampire that saw the Great Depression with her own eyes and sharing with her my childhood dreams. When did my life go so wrong?

'Forgive me, father, for I have sinned.' Or something. I really should start attending church again.

«I wanted to be feared,» I answered with more honestly, than I thought I am capable of.

She was listening, quietly caressing my upper chest. It was sensitive, incredibly so. And she hadn't even used her lips.

Holy hell, I am so down...

«That redvamp, that attacked my family and almost killed Molly... I saw his eyes before father decapitated him. He was laughing. Amused. For this creature, we were nothing but food.» I stopped. I felt funny, talking about it for the first time in years. Maybe ever. Lara's lips were helping, too. «I was angry, you know. I hated him. I wanted him to fear me. For creatures like him, so full of themselves, so proud, so powerful, the greatest hunters in a world of prey… I wanted them to feel fucking fear. I wanted them to squirm. To run, to punic, to burn! I wanted them to know, that someone bigger, scarier, faster, stronger than them is coming after them. I wanted to come after them. I wanted to murder them.»

I was quiet for a moment. My head was empty, yet my body felt more alive than ever.

"I ran to Morgan, right after that. He was good at killing. Better than me. Better than anyone I knew. And he was feared, by wizards and by vampires equally. Knights, they are all about saving and protecting. Wardens simply murder whatever."

Lara was smiling.

«You know, our goals are not that different.» Her smile was almost honest. Almost. «You want a name for yourself. The reputation of the scariest man on this side of the ocean.»

«And you want the said scariest fucker running errands for the house Raith.»

She smiled, softly.

«Not for the house Raith, dummy. For myself. For such cases, like... like now.»

'Right, because go looking for a wizard to hire when someone is using your sister as a magical tv remote sucks.'

Then there was silence. Alcohol was raving in my brain, and I was blankly staring into her eyes, like captured fish. They were so fucking deep.

«No point in running errands for the Council, if you can do the same for me. I pay better, and targets are all the same.»

'Except it is not Council that grows stronger. It is you and your horde of...'

There was no anger in that thought. Emotions felt numb, blunted. And still no sign of magic. She had me by the balls and did not need even a drop of sorcery for that.

Lara was almost purring now, with her lips on my ear and fingers slowly patting my stomach. Slowly, oh, so slowly going down.

«I don't like to share, you know.»

In her eyes was pure amusement.

«You can't afford it.»

Aka «I will suck you dry in less than a week, so don't even try.»

«And if it turns out I can?»

She smiled.

«Remove 'daddy dearest' first. Then I will think about it.»


End file.
